


Misfire

by The_Thieving_Magpie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Death Fetish, Death Wish, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 21:49:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9204758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Thieving_Magpie/pseuds/The_Thieving_Magpie
Summary: He couldn’t believe it. As he fell backwards, the pain was  ..unthinkable. Even for Jim, this was too much. His dark eyes blazed with shock and he stared upwards, as Sherlock watched all this unfold in mute horror.The gun had discharged improperly.Jim was gravely injured, but alive. And gasping on his own blood. He tried to whisper Sherlock’s name .. but he could only lay there helpless, waiting.





	

"You ....were ...supposed ..to ...follow ..me ...had it ..all ..planned ..."

Jim panted out the words from his ruptured mouth, even as Sherlock struggled to get him to sit up so he wouldn't choke to death on blood. "Y-You better ...jump ... be ... with ... you soon .. sweetheart ..."

Sherlock shook his head, concentrating on keeping the smaller man alive. Telling himself this was purely so Jim could live long enough to call off the assassins, that there was no more to it than that. Telling himself he felt nothing more than pity, frustration and anger. That it was the unhappy experience of feeling pity that made tears ready to boil from his stinging eyes. "Why would you do something so _stupid_?! You're a genius for Christ's sake! The eighth wonder of the world and you just tried to blow your much boasted of brain out the back of your head..."  Jim was dying before his eyes and there was nothing he could do. If he died, the code died with him. Everyone died with him. Sherlock might as well die, because without the others .. without Jim .. there really was nothing left. Nothing that he found remotely interesting.

Jim stared at him with thoughts past human understanding, and Sherlock felt his heart and mind beginning to fragment along with his soul.

"You can't just die and leave me here with this ... this ... _alone_."

"There's ....no ...code ...doofus."

Sherlock stared back at the man he held upright, hearing the truth in the words.  "Wh-- _What_ ?! Then  - "

"It's about winning. You knew that. You ... just ... never understood what ...I wanted to  ...win .."

"James."  
  
Jim savoured hearing Sherlock speak his name. Strangely beautiful, somehow.  "You and me, happy together ... just ... like the ..song .. but there's no happy here on earth .. gotta .. break on through .. to .. the .."

His dark eyes closed and Sherlock shouted at him, raged at him, turning viciously from where he crouched at the hand on his shoulder.  "John?! How --- no, you know what, it doesn't matter. Save him. Do you hear me?! _Save_ him!!"

John Watson gaped at the scene before him, and struggled to think how to even react, but Sherlock was becoming violent in his despair. "SAVE him!!"

"Sherlock! Listen to me! We broke the network, Moran's in custody, and even though he wouldn't talk, we -- "  
  
Sherlock dropped Jim, and grasped John by the shoulders. "Do I need to beg you? Do it. Do what I told you. Do it, I don't care how. You're a bloody _doctor_ , you have to!"

John took a very deep breath and knelt down by the unconscious Moriarty.

 

"God help us all."

 

 

**_Six Weeks Later_ **

 

Midnight was still and silent in a hospital in the recovery wards, the peace broken only by the trill and hum of various machinery occupied by the business of keeping people alive.

The roof of Jim's mouth had been obliterated and his skull fractured from the impact of the faulty discharge, grafts had been called for, and the severe concussion had sent him into a coma for five weeks. But now he lay watching the nurses putter, and the presence of two people who had been there the last time he had closed his eyes. Too sedated to speak, he could only watch them. Then a third entered the room, the foggy haze that passed for vision told him it was Mycroft.   
  


"There, signed and done."  
  
"It's the best facility there is. Secure and with the very best reputation."

"His safety is absolutely guaranteed?"

"Yes, Sherlock."

"He needs help. He's a genius. Second only to me."  Moriarty flinched.

"He'll get it. Now, I can't help but notice John isn't speaking."  
  
"He isn't happy with me."  
  
John turned and walked out of the room.  "I see this."  Mycroft noted.

"When he's well ..."

"When he's well, if he is ever well .. he won't go on trial. We'll do as agreed."

"Why are you being so agreeable?"  
  
Mycroft turned to go, with a wry smile.

 

"Because, brother mine ..............there is no place I feel more safe having James Moriarty alive .... than with _you_."

 

 

The End?

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
